The Unicorn Challenge.
A magical new weekly writing opportunity from her – Jenne Gray – and me.
Visit her blog every Friday to see the photo prompt, and post your amazing story in her comments section.
Or on your own blog, and stick the link down in her comments.
The rules are:
Maximum of 250 words.
Based on photo prompt.
That’s it.
To hear me read my story, just click here:
Pretty Flamingo
Some of you might be unaware that I once did a bit of singing, most notably with a band called Manfred Mann (in various incarnations), best known for Doo Wah Diddy Diddy, Pretty Flamingo and other such masterpieces of modern music.
I was the singer after the one after the one after Mike d’Abo, who was the one after Paul Jones, the only decent singer the band ever had.
When my pop career fizzled out, largely due to lack of talent, I still occasionally found work at clubs and functions, usually with the resident pianist, or someone I met in a pub and bunged twenty quid.
I performed the aforementioned hits, other Manfred dross, and a few standards.
I was capable enough that people mostly stopped talking and listened, politely if without overmuch enthusiasm.
There was little, I confess, in the way of undergarment throwing.
So this night I’m mid-song in mid-act in some crummy dump with a crummy piano player when, on singing the words ‘let me tell you…’, my mind goes blank.
I don’t know the next line, I don’t know the song, and I’m starting to wonder why I’m there.
But I’m semi-professional by now, so I pause, laugh, and ask the audience, ‘Does anyone know what I was about to tell you?’
A voice from the darkness behind the too-bright spotlight replies, ‘No, and nobody cares.’
And I realise that I’m an empty man in an empty suit draped across an empty stage.
Manfred Mann with Paul Jones singing:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uc0x7xOap4I
what is it that compels one (or many) to step out and up and perform?
(wait, just had a thought… sure, it’s easy to hold the singer (or other musician) up under the light of scrutiny*)… but then again, those of us in this virtual world who live to cast dreams and draw lives in words… are we not performers?)
nice mirror dude!
When we write, we bare much more, I think.
Happy it worked for you, Clark.
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Well, would you diddy doo it, we have a singer in our midst! Ignore that voice, we care!
Cheers.
You played guitar for Mick J, didn’t you, Keith ?
Jings, you’ve got the desolation down to a ‘T’ in this charcacter.
I can feel the atmosphere of hopelessness and stale smoke in that crummy club…
Which is in complete contrast to the superb quality of your writing – again!
Some of those Working Men’s Clubs in North-East Englandshire were dreich places!
.
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Ooh, I wasn’t expecting that…
(p.s. great song)
I enjoy surprising you, Chris!
Fun 60s music.
Never! You are a superstar here and don’t ever let anyone tell you any different!
Laughing here.
Thank you, Violet, your cheque’s in the post!